The Blunt End of the Service

by L. J. Simpson

“The police? The military police?”

  “No, just the police. You know, coppers. A Detective Chief Inspector Burns and a Detective Sergeant Mullins.”

  “What do they want?”

  “They didn’t say. Want me to ask?”

  “No, I’ll go and meet them at the air lock. You’d better get on to Commodore Jacks’ office and give him the heads up. Don’t know what he’ll make of civilian police on his station. Hold the fort till I get back.”

  “Roger.”

  Chuck made it to the air lock just as the shuttle docked. A steward guided the two policemen onto the station and left them in Chuck’s care.

  “DCI Burns and DS Mullins,” said the taller of the two. “I gather you’re expecting us.” From Chuck’s expression the two detectives quickly deduced that he wasn’t. Chuck was just about to offer an apology when a red faced Commodore Jacks burst into the compartment.

  “I thought I had made it absolutely clear to your superiors that this station was off-limits to all civilian law enforcement officers. This is a military matter and will be handled by military personnel,” he snapped to the two policemen. “And as for you,” he bawled at Chuck, “Who gave you permission to allow these two on board?”

  “Err, beg your pardon, sir, but nobody–”

  “Gentlemen, gentlemen,” said DCI Burns smoothly, coming to Chuck’s rescue. “There has obviously been some kind of misunderstanding here. Please allow me to clear things up. We are here at the personal request of Admiral Alexander Giles, who has invited our department to make some independent enquiries on his behalf. I was led to believe that you had been informed of his decision…?” Burns waited patiently for a response, but when none was forthcoming he changed tack.

  “I see… Admiral Giles is, if my memory serves me correctly, the commanding officer of this sector? Yes, yes, I’m sure I’ve got that part right. Now, according to the memorandum that I received from the admiral just yesterday, we are to be extended… remind me Mullins, what was it that we were to be extended?” Mullins consulted his data pad.

  “Every courtesy and full co-operation, sir.”

  “Thank you, sergeant. Every courtesy and full co-operation, plus any and all assistance we may require as we look into the circumstances surrounding the theft of one computer core, on or around the 23rd of this month. I can furnish you with a copy of my orders if you wish, Commodore, though I’m confident that a cursory search of your incoming mail from sector HQ will make that unnecessary.”

  Commodore Jacks looked as if he were about say something but changed his mind and just glowered.

  “If you have any misgivings about the situation, Commodore, please feel free to take the matter up with Admiral Giles.”

  “Just make sure you keep me appraised and up to date with your enquiries,” said Jacks sourly.

  “Actually, Commodore, we are to report our findings directly to the admiral.” Jacks turned a deeper shade of red.

  “Fix them up with quarters,” he growled at Chuck. Then he turned his back and stomped out.

  “Welcome to Orbital One,” said Chuck amiably, once Jacks was out of earshot.

  “Thank you,” said Burns. “And you are..?”

  “Poulson. Chuck Poulson.”

  “Ah, yes. Sub-Captain Poulson, I regret I’m not familiar with the rank.”

  “Don’t worry,” replied Chuck. “Neither is anyone else. It’s just a temporary commission for the duration of the present emergency. At least, I hope it is.”

  “I see. Well, I’m sure we’ll have the opportunity to talk about that at a later date, but for the time being perhaps you could show us to our quarters? It’s been a long day.”

  “Yes, of course,” said Chuck. “If you’ll follow me.”

  “Tell me,” said Mullins as they left the docking bay, “Is that commodore of yours always so agreeable, or was that a special welcome just for us?”

  “I couldn’t really say,” said Chuck. “I’ve only spoken to him on a few occasions. Seem to have caught him in a different mood each time. Have to say that the commodore does seem rather particular about the distinction between military and civilian.” Mullins snorted and said something under his breath that Chuck couldn’t quite catch. Whatever it was, it didn’t sound very complimentary. Burns was more circumspect.

  “I do appreciate your sentiments, Mullins, but as we are guests on this station we might perhaps show a little respect. Don’t mind Mullins, Mr. Poulson. His bark is worse than his bite. Unless you happen to find yourself on the wrong side of the law, of course. Then he’s a proper bulldog. Once he gets his teeth into someone I’m afraid it’s all over.”

  Chuck wasn’t entirely sure what to make of the two police officers. Burns was tall, lithe and almost elegant in dress and manner. Mullins, on the other hand, was shorter, stouter and definitely the scruffier of the two, walking along with a distinct swagger. Neither seemed concerned by the commodore’s outburst, but then again, Jacks wasn’t their boss so they could probably afford not to.

  “With all the problems that have been going on we’ve readied some extra accommodation which I’m sure you’ll find comfortable,” said Chuck as they made their way to the upper levels. “Used to be middle management suites when the station was fully operational. Very nice, cleaned up rather well, as a matter of fact.”

  “I’m sure the quarters will be quite suitable, Mr. Poulson. Just lead the way,” said Burns. Chuck led them to the upper level of the station and they emerged onto a wide corridor that curved off into the distance.

  “Here we are, this is Deck 1, the top floor of Alpha Section. Most of the crew reside one floor down on Deck 2, where you can also find the cafeteria. It’s only open during office hours so you might want to get something from the store which is next door. There’s a map over here which is easy enough to follow, and if you like I’ll assign you two rooms opposite.”

  “Thank you,” said Burns. “I’m sure we’ll do our best not to get lost, won’t we, Mullins?”

  “Oh, we’ll try, and if we get into difficulties we’ll just ask a policeman.”

  “See, problem solved,” said Burns.

  “OK… I’ll err… leave you to it then,” said Chuck, handing over the key cards to their rooms. “Any problems and you can always find someone in Ops, which is just down these stairs and then along the–”

  “We’ll be fine,” said Burns cutting Chuck off, and with that the two policemen turned abruptly away.

  When Chuck woke up next morning a note on his data pad told him that a staff meeting had been called for 9 a.m. When he arrived, the mood in the crew room was grim. It was bad enough that quiet life they had for so long enjoyed had abruptly finished when Jacks had arrived, but all that seemed trivial when compared to the loss of Bernie. And now on top of that it seemed that they were all suspects in not one official enquiry, but two. Things were becoming bleaker by the day.

  “I don’t get it,” said Baz. “Why would the police be called in? It doesn’t make any sense at all. Jacks and his cronies have interviewed every one of us so why the cops?”

  “All I can tell you is that they were invited here by Admiral Giles,” said Commander Jacobs. “Read into that what you will.”

  “Jacks is an old soldier, not a detective. Makes sense to me,” said Archie.

  “Even so, don’t you think it’s odd?” said Guns. “It’s like Giles is giving Jacks a public vote of no confidence. No wonder he’s annoyed.”

  “I don’t think ‘annoyed’ covers it,” said Jacobs. “Jacks is livid. He’s charging around making life a misery for anyone who crosses his path, so I advise you all to give him a wide berth and don’t give him any excuses to vent his anger.”

  “Since when did he need excuses?” said Duke. “He just gets right on with the job.”

  “I heard that Jacks and Admiral Giles don’t get on very well,” said Penny.

  “Really? Where did you hear that?” said Chuck.

  “Oh, you know, girl’s talk
.”

  “What do you mean, girl’s talk?”

  “Dolores told me,” said Penny.

  “Who on earth is Dolores?”

  “Lt. Primrose.”

  “Jacks’ adjutant? The Ice Queen?” said Archie.

  “Yes, but you shouldn’t be so mean. She’s very nice when you get to know her. I think she has an awful lot to put up with from Commodore Jacks. She did say that at times he wasn’t the easiest person to work for.”

  “She got that part right. Wonder what it’s like to be stuck with him all day, every day? At least we’ll be shut of him when this mess is over. I hope.”

  “What else did she tell you?” said Ollie. “Anything else you’d like to share?”

  “Certainly not,” said Penny. “Ask her yourself if you’re interested.”

  “No fear.”

  “Whatever the reasons behind it all, the police want to start interviewing you today,” said Jacobs. “Expect a call from them and as before, be co-operative. The sooner they’re finished, the sooner we can get them off the station.

  “Also, there will be a memorial service for Bernie down on Atlas the day after tomorrow. We’re still confined to the station and unless that changes I guess we’ll have to pay our respects another time. That’s all, people.”

  As they rose, Duke’s data pad started to bleep. “DCI Burns is requesting my company in A1-35,” he said, glancing down. “Looks like they’re starting with me.”

  Chuck was the last to be interviewed and didn’t receive his invitation until next morning. ‘Request your presence in Room 35, Deck 1, Alpha Section at 10 a.m. this morning. DCI Burns,’ said the message. Shortly before ten he made the short trip from his quarters on Deck 2, knocked on the door and entered Room 35.

  “Good morning, Mr. Poulson. Have a seat,” said Burns. It wasn’t exactly an order but neither was it a friendly invitation. Chuck sat down. “Just for the record, could you run us through your history on Orbital 1?”

  “Simple enough,” said Chuck. “I started working here about two years back, not long after Commander Jacobs took over and I’ve worked as an Ops officer ever since.”

  “And before that?”

  “I worked aboard super freighters.”

  “With Commander Jacobs as your CO for most of that time, I understand. Go back a long time, do you?”

  “Yeah, about ten or twelve years.”

  “So you’d say that you know him well?”

  “As well as most, I imagine,” said Chuck.

  “How would you describe him?”

  “A thoroughly decent man and decent boss too. You have to work to earn his trust but he’s always been fair with me, and everyone else, I think.”

  “I understand that he was the captain of the super freighter Ivanhoe before he took up the post here. You were his third officer, correct?”

  “Yes, that’s right,” said Chuck.

  “Captain of a super freighter to commander of an obsolete space station. Bit of a step down the ladder, don’t you think?”

  “Not really. He’d been in space a long time and I think he figured that O1 would be a good place to wind down before his retirement. Regular hours and closer to his family planet-side too.”

  “Hmm,” said Burns. “So, knowing him as you do, would you say that he was capable of flushing one of his staff out of an airlock as a prelude to grand larceny?”

  “I’m sorry?” said Chuck in surprise.

  “Commander Jacobs. Do you think he could have flushed Bernard Stevens out of an air lock?” said Burns patiently. “Simple enough question, is it not?”

  “Commander Jacobs? No, of course I don’t. No way,” said Chuck indignantly. “I don’t understand. What on earth are you suggesting? Are you saying that Bernie’s death wasn’t an accident?”

  “Now let’s see, nothing of note happens on this station for years on end – absolutely nothing – and then, within thirty six hours, one of your staff manages to get himself killed and a priceless computer core is stolen. Is it just me, or is that rather too much of a coincidence?”

  “Even if there is a connection, surely you can’t suspect Commander Jacobs?”

  “As a matter of fact, no we don’t, which makes things easier – or more difficult – depending upon how you look at it.”

  “Thing is, see,” said Sergeant Mullins, speaking for the first time, “This is what we in the trade would call an inside job. Whoever took Hector couldn’t have done it without assistance from someone aboard this station.”

  “You see, with all the recent activity we can easily imagine how someone could have got aboard the station in the first place,” said Burns, “But whoever it was, they would have needed to know exactly how to disconnect Hector from his external power source, which I’m told is quite a delicate operation.”

  “And more to the point,” said Mullins, “They would need to know how to get past the security. So tell me, how many people knew, or had access to the security codes to the holding chamber?”

  “I’m not sure,” said Chuck. “Commander Jacobs and the shift leaders, I suppose.”

  “Who are?”

  “Guns Graham, myself… and poor old Bernie Stevens.”

  “I think we can rule out poor old Bernie Stevens,” said Mullins.

  “Well, we’ll come back to that later. Tell me,” said Burns, glancing down at his data pad. “Are you acquainted with a… Mike Givens and a Doug Timmins?”

  “Yeah, sure. They’re the tech guys from Comtec.”

  “Do you know what they say about you? Chuck Poulson? Oh yes, know him well. Very friendly… quite knowledgeable… always ready to lend a hand… takes a lively interest in what we do… always asks a lot of questions… ” said Burns, with just enough gravity to switch on a little alarm light at the back of Chuck’s brain.

  “Are you suggesting that I had something to do with it?”

  “Did you?” said Mullins.

  “No,” said Chuck. “Why would I?”

  “Any number of reasons,” said Burns.

  “Jacobs seems to think highly of you. Makes me wonder why a man of your ability would still be here,” said Mullins. “Must be better prospects over on Phoenix. Turn you down, did they?”

  “No, I never even applied,” said Chuck.

  “You trying to tell us that you like it here?” said Mullins with a note of incredulity. “Or perhaps you saw the chance for a nice, easy little payday, just like your old mate Vinnie Waters. Maybe someone happened to whisper in your ear that it might be worth your while to leave the back door unlocked? I mean, it would be easy enough, wouldn’t it? Who would know?”

  “But it’s not like that at all,” said Chuck.

  “Funnily enough, that’s what everyone says,” said Burns. “Not exactly a surprise, but still. Have you any idea how many lies the average man tells, Mr. Poulson?”

  “I’ve no idea,” said Chuck.

  “About a thousand each year apparently, including white lies and fibs. Works out to nearly three a day. I gather women only tell about seven hundred. I often wonder what the extra three hundred might be… How many have you told today, Mullins?”

  “Just the one, sir. Said I enjoyed breakfast.”

  “And how about you, Mr. Poulson? How many have you told today?”

  “None, none at all, I promise you.”

  “Thing is, someone around here isn’t being completely honest with us. Who do you think that might be, Mr. Poulson? You see, it all leads us back to the people who had access to the holding chamber. Stevens, Graham and yourself. What I’m wondering is, of the three of you, who would be capable of disconnecting Hector from the external power source? Unless Mr. Stevens was a party to the theft of the core and in a fit of guilt ended his own life in the vacuum of space, it leaves just you and Mr. Graham.”

  “And what we have here,” said Mullins, “Are a couple of personnel files. According to this one, Mr. Graham holds a watch keeping certificate, a legacy from his days in the
navy where he worked with weapons systems. After retiring from military service he specialized in navigation and logistics. According to his most recent fitness report, despite his advancing years he is reliable, though he does have some problems adapting to the latest technologies.” He dropped the file onto the table.

  “This one is yours,” he said, holding up the other file. “You also hold a watch keeping certificate, granted by Commander Jacobs. And according to this, your primary field of expertise lies in computer systems and technology…”

  “You can see where this is going, can’t you, Mr. Poulson?” said Burns. “Looking at it from our point of view, who would you class as the most likely suspect?”

  “I honestly had nothing to do with it,” said Chuck, beginning to panic. “I was mostly in Ops around that time. You can check.”

  “We already have. Unfortunately, no-one can swear that you were in Ops the whole time; you could easily have slipped out for a while.”

  “And we tried to stop the ship that took Hector. Doesn’t that count for anything?” said Chuck.

  “Ah yes,” said Mullins. “Your vainglorious pursuit of a modern, fast transport ship in an antiquated, rusting, gun-less gunboat. Hardly surprising that you didn’t succeed, but then again, that wouldn’t have been in the script, would it?”

  “But we nearly got blown up!”

  “So? Perhaps blowing up an empty cargo container was in the script. Nice touch for someone gullible enough to swallow it.”

  “It wasn’t empty. It was full of food!”

  “What do you take us for? A pair of fools?” said Mullins with rising anger.

  “Sgt. Mullins,” said Burns calmly. “Perhaps I could have a few minutes alone with Mr. Poulson…”

  “As you wish, sir,” said Mullins, retiring to the adjacent office and slamming the door shut behind him. Burns gave a quiet sigh.

  “I believe I did warn you about Sgt. Mullins, Mr. Poulson. Proper bulldog he is. Gets results though, I have to hand him that. You see, the pod might well have been full of food…”

  “It was,” said Chuck.

  “But no computer core. You do see our predicament, don’t you? Are you sure there is nothing you can add, nothing that you want to confide in us?” he said, not unkindly. “In the long run it might very well work in your favor…”